And Then They
by moral2
Summary: Shameimaru tires of these sycophants. A needlessly purple story on tengu affairs.
1. And Then They

_**Also known as "I love purple prose: the short."**_

* * *

 _Shameimaru_ , they say. _Your wings are beautiful_ , they say.

 _Yes_ , she says. _I know this for a fact_ , she says.

Aya is tired.

She pays the sycophants no mind, for the fools know nothing of romance but cheap witticisms and many, _many_ colloquial phrases used to seduce female tengu aplenty. Shameimaru, tired as she may be, could only smile wistfully as she bears with yet another toadie sputtering out how she had "the fairest skin of all the tengu."

Aya is very tired.

But from the corner of the eye, she spots a human, _her_ human, peering into the stuffy room from the window. He casts a watchful eye in her direction. So Shameimaru teases him, dropping a casual blush-and-smile and coyly lowering her eyes. The rest of the bumbling fools swoon, clamoring for Shameimaru's attention, arguing for whom the smile was for.

 _It was for mine personage_ , cries he who had the talent of being less-than-tactful. Shameimaru sighs. She would never offer her blush to he who crowed that her breasts were "admirable assets" for the village.

 _Nay, for the answer can only be I_ , exclaimed he who knew the most platitudes. Shameimaru had adopted the policy of nodding her head at specific intervals (when the man ceased to talk, which happened rarely) and critically rousing herself in a similar fashion to a student keeping awake in lecture.

 _You filth_ , one says.

 _You cheat_ , another says.

 _Let us abate this quarrel_ , screams one in the crowd. Nevertheless, they squabble, whether it be squabbling over squabbling or rioting over "he who truly received the smile of Shameimaru." Only but a spectator to the uproar, the human smiles and disappears from the windowpane.

Aya, amidst the chaos, smirks wryly.

The female tengu, banding together to form a small coalition against Shameimaru, collectively scowl at the commotion and glare at her, petulant in their jealousy. Shameimaru sighs once more. In their envy, they fail to realize that Shameimaru would much rather be in their position – they who are out of the spotlight, away from the crux of the faux-oriental room and out of the mockery that the tengu call a "matchmaking trial." The stupidity of Shameimaru's predicament holds enough density to amass its own gravitational force.

The dust has settled. Men cease grabbing at each other for the hand of Shameimaru. They have compromised, declaring in confident fashion that the smile was meant for not one, but for everyone.

 _Shameimaru_ , they cry.

But she is already gone, her empty chair gently rocking back and forth.

* * *

Aya Shameimaru takes her partner's hand, clasping it tightly. He reciprocates by pulling her in closer, giving her hand a squeeze.

"Have I told you how beautiful your wings are?" His tone is level but his look, one of complacency, is anything but. The human stare at her with eyes that betray laughter.

Aya chooses to be civil. By uttering various profanities at the human.

He merely laughs off her dry harshities. "But I must say, a traditional dress works wonders on your femininity. What say you?"

"You cretin," Aya remarks drily, "have you no delicacy?"

"None," he admits in his gaiety. "I've another question. Will I be able to see such a lovely dress on your figure once more?"

"It's but a ceremonial wedding dress," Aya spits.

In a fixed bout of nervousness, he pauses. "...I know."

"You sly devil," she croons, ushering him into the confines of her home.

Then he ambushes the crow tengu, sweeping her off her feet, his catch of the day yelping in surprise. She decides to have a fit, despite allowing her assailant to carry her akin to a princess.

"Oh," the man quips. "Rumors have it that your bosom upholds the merit of the village."

She responds with a slap upside the head. The man grins, disappearing into the Shameimaru residency.

AND THEN THEY FUCKED.


	2. But Then

Himekaidou sweats profusely; she was unprepared.

She may have erred.

Leaving a couple of documents behind at Aya's home, she went to sneakily grab them before her paper is distributed in the morn. She catches the time – Aya shouldn't return until after the matchmaking is done. This is an assumption. The door swinging open with no more than a delicate push may be an indication that her assumption is wrong.

"Have you returned, Aya"" Himekaidou speaks to the door, "Pay myself no mind, I'll be here but for a minute. I've documents to reclaim." She eyes the clock. It spells a time two hours earlier than the close of the matchmaking party. "But a shame, Aya! No luck with men? I hold you no envy because–"

The documents slip to the floor.

Aya, propped up by her partner's arms, blinks. Her dress lay unsashed, barely covering skin unfit for public eye.

"Um," Himekaidou stutters, "have I intruded?"

"Mayhaps," the man sheepishly answers.

And then Himekaidou did the mile-walk to the door, wordlessly shutting the door with a click. She dare not look Shameimaru in the eyes.

Ten paces away from the residence, a calm yet horrifying realization hits her: she forgot her documents.


End file.
